


Fighting Fate

by WordsCharacterPlot



Series: A New Potion Master [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Original Character(s), Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsCharacterPlot/pseuds/WordsCharacterPlot
Summary: Sequel to A Twist of Fate. Regulus Black escaped death in the war, but walked away with scars. While the rest of the Wizarding World was ready to move on, to accept Sirius Black as a murderer, to allow the Boy-Who-Lived to remain unseen and unheard, Regulus has different plans. Destroying horcruxes, Azkaban breakouts, and kidnapping heroes to name a few.
Relationships: Regulus Black/Original Female Character(s)
Series: A New Potion Master [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555705
Comments: 52
Kudos: 274





	1. Chapter 1

Eight years ago, Regulus Arcturus Black faced a shift of perspective, of fate. Eight years ago, Regulus Arcturus Black endured a near death in an effort to destroy part of Voldemort’s soul. Eight years ago, Regulus Arcturus Black changed the course of fate in the darkest parts of war.

He could not win the war singlehandedly though. James and Lily Potter still died. Sirius Black was still falsely accused and thrown in Azkaban without a trial. Harry Potter was still sent to live with Vernon and Petunia Dursley in a cupboard under the stairs.

And for Regulus Arcturus Black, these failings were hard to bear in the six years of peace. A faux peace, for he knew that Voldemort still lingered as his soul remained divided. He had managed to destroy the locket that held a small piece, the priceless heirloom disappearing in fiendfyre, twisting the metal into slag. Others remained though. And true peace could not be found while evil most foul continued to remain.

Pressing the lapel of his cloak, Regulus moved on to flatten his hair into submission. He wanted to make an impression on his venture to Gringotts. Without Arcturus to provide authority in Black matters, he would have to convince the goblins he was worth their time. Regulus was not heir but he carried Black blood and enough determination to see things through.

This trip to Gringotts was important and twofold. The first was to relieve a possible horcrux from Bellatrix Black’s vault. The second was to find a ring suitable for Hannah. He wasn’t sure which item he feared finding the most. 

Hannah Sayre had stumbled her way into Regulus’ life when he had posed dead. A child of an abusive household, Hannah Sayre held light and hope in her hands to give to any that passed. More than any mind healing he had endured, Regulus found rest and peace in her presence. That had continued as he struggled to find his place in the new era of peace.

“Uncle Regulus! Mum says to stop preening and go already.” A young boy with bright blond hair and a missing tooth grinned at him. Draco Regis Black, cheeky little monkey.

“Is that truly what she said?”

“Welllll, something like that.”

Regulus smiled and mused his hair, much to Draco’s annoyance. “I’m heading out. Tell your mother to stop nagging.”

“I can’t tell her that!” Horror at offering any back talk to his mother showing in his wide eyes and pale face. 

“Then just tell her I’m off,” he said with a smile, “I’ll be back no later than an hour.”

He ran off and Regulus took that cue to leave. He made his way to Diagon Alley and scowled at the lingering crowds. It was August, which meant parents out buying school supplies mixed with the normal busy summer crowds. On top of that, a new prime minister had been elected and was taking office today. The whole street buzzed with excitement and change. 

He wove through the throng of people and entered the sanctuary of the bank, releasing a sigh at how empty the lobby was. He enacted his business swiftly. The goblins barely blinked at the writ of authority from his grandfather and led him to the vaults without question. He tucked the cup which seemed to once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff into a pouch to contain dark objects and then spent an hour searching for the right ring.

Protocol dictated that he offer Hannah a ring from their vault. While she was not traditional, he was and he honored the ones that did not implicate the death of innocents. The issue was that the rings of his ancestors were gaudy and expensive and did not fit Hannah’s personality.

Just as he was beginning to lose hope of ever finding one for her, a glint of gold peeked out from the corner of a box. He pulled it out. 

“Perfect,” he breathed. A small diamond, no more than a carat, was nestled into a rose of gold, delicate leaves creating the band. It was unique and subtle and just what he wanted for her. Now all that was left was asking for her hand. Simple.

“Mister Black,” the goblin, Toothsnare, stopped him as he left the vault, “At the death of your mother, you have gained control of the primary vaults. We require your verification and acceptance of said vaults.”

His mother had passed on last year, allowing the bitterness to finally consume her. He had done his best to not think about it, although Hannah’s offer of a drunken night to celebrate had been welcome. He resisted the urge to snap at the goblin. He was doing business. Wizarding family matters meant nothing to him.

“I am not heir. It should go to Sirius.” 

“He is unable to claim it.”

Of course not. Still, goblins did not usually care about things like incarceration, as long as they still received their cut. He let out a huff, “She put a clause on it, didn’t she?”

Clauses were rare on goblin vaults. It gave too much control to wizards. A clause could shift who would obtain the vault and withhold funds until the appointed person accepted. Cursing his mother to the pits of hell, he motioned for the goblin to lead the way.

An hour of negotiating later, Regulus put all the appropriate vaults back under the heir to the House of Black. He had enough funds in his own account and could petition his grandfather for more if it ever came to it. He would need to speak about a marriage vault though. He fingered the ring in his pocket.

“Black.”

The voice of curdled milk matched the hair of the speaker. Regulus turned and gave a sneer, “Malfoy.”

The Malfoys had not done well after Narcissa’s divorce of Lucius. They were able to keep a very particular brand of followers from the war, but the Blacks were stronger in building the neutral faction. Without the wealth and power of the Blacks, the Malfoys floundered. Not even his new wife could produce a suitable heir, only given him two daughters. Seeing the direction they were heading, Lucius made the mistake of appealing to Narcissa in public. Her snub was talked about for weeks. 

Still, Narcissa was adamant that should he want it, he could have supervised visits with Draco. She had no intention of keeping her son from his father. 

“Was there something you needed, Lucius? Or are you muttering under your breath these days?” He raised an eyebrow, enjoying the man fidget. His eyes darted, the grip on his cane tightening.

“I have a petition for you, but it would need to be in a more private setting.”

Right, he was that idiotic. “I suppose we’re done here then.”

He turned to leave, but Malfoy gripped his left arm, a warning. Regulus didn’t dare draw his wand in front of the goblins, but a good right hook would take care of this. Instead, he waited for him to lean in and say quietly, “A goblin controlled private room would suffice for this conversation.”

Interesting. Malfoy had no love for goblins, like most wizards. Taking a private room in goblin territory would be as neutral as they could get. Drawing wands on each other would only get them brutally murdered by their hosts. Intrigued, he nodded and asked Toothsnare for a private room.

With a grunt, they were led to an equally gaudy gold room. The doors sealed behind them. “Well, here I am. Shall we forgo the usual pleasantries?”

“Very well,” he took his seat, resting his cane on his leg. Regulus briefly wondered how true the war injury was, or if Malfoy merely liked the look of the cane. Or, a dark part of his mind whispered, did he use it to beat those closest to him as rumor suggested. “There has been word that you have managed to remove the Mark.”

“Is that so?” So Malfoy was angling for more authority. Without the Mark branding him, he could have more leverage, perhaps even sway more to his side in the Wizengamot. “Should it be true, what reason would I have to offer this information to you? You have spurned my cousin, ruined her name, neglected your son. The Ancient and Noble House of Black takes those offenses seriously.”

“I can offer an important artifact of the Dark Lord. Only if you can remove the brand.” The pouch holding the cup seemed to burn at his side. After so much searching, could he truly be so close to another horcrux? He did not show his excitement as he thought over the proposal. 

“I assume you brought said item?” He asked casually. “Although it would explain why you lack allies if this is how you conduct negotiations.”

Malfoy scowled, irked, and this did exactly what he wanted; he pulled out a ratty journal. “That’s it?”

“I assure you it was a prized possession of his,” he growled, then seemed to remember his place, “but if you have no interest in it.”

Regulus waved his hand to keep it in place and laid his left arm on the table, “I cannot remove the brand, but I have lessened connection.”

He pulled up his sleeve and the scene of a pine forest greeted him. A werewolf lurked in the shadows of the trees. Not the best scene, but not his worst. Last week had been chains. He met Malfoy’s gaze, “Didn’t even feel it when he died.”

Not that Malfoy needed to know why he didn’t feel it. Judging by the wince, Regulus should thank Narcissa for overdosing him that night. 

He tapped the journal then nodded, “Tell me how to do this and I will give the diary.”

“Pandora Lovegood healed it,” he said, fighting back the grin. Malfoy blanched. “Quite painful process but worth it.”

“That witch isn’t capable of finding her own shoes,” he sneered.

Regulus shrugged, “You asked, I answered.”

He snarled and swiped the book away. Regulus raised an eyebrow, “Are you truly threatening to back on our deal in goblin territory?”

Malfoy straightened, throwing the book away as if it were trash, then swept out of the room. Now alone in the room, Regulus rolled his eyes freely. What a pretentious twat. 

Still, he had his uses. Regulus picked up the book, resisting the shudder that threatened to dislodge his spine, and placed it with the cup. Two more. Unfortunately, the existence of this book meant Riddle had been aiming for seven pieces of his soul, not three. And it would be impossible to know just how far he had gotten before that night at Godric’s Hollow. 

He rolled his sleeve back over the mark, which had begun to burn through the forest scene at the touch of the evil objects. He would have to hope that the mark would dissolve as he tossed them in the fire. It would be the only indication that Regulus had finally defeated him.


	2. Setting things in motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....hi? I have no excuse.

The blasted ring he picked out for Hannah weighed more than all he held in his vaults. It constantly reminded him of what he wanted to ask, to the point that he was surprised he had not yet blurted it in the most inconvenient way. To compensate, Regulus avoided spending time alone with Hannah until he was prepared. To get to that point, his first stop was his grandfather.

He lounged in the elegant library of the country estate, eyes roving hungrily over the precious tomes on the dark wood shelves. So much knowledge and power in dusty pages. It was a book from this collection that gave him the solution to the horcruxes. It was these forgotten journals that helped Regulus with his plan to free Sirius.

Despite what many assume, Regulus was still trying to free his brother, still believed his innocence. He had been crafty in getting news and finding loopholes from the Wizarding World and had accepted Pandora’s advice so long ago that said Sirius must be the one to break free. Sirius would break free, Regulus just had to give him the proper motivation and a world that allowed for said freedom.

Regulus stood, waving aside thoughts, as his grandfather entered, showing every bit of his near 90 years of age, stooped over a cane and shuffling in with as much grace and strength as he could muster. Despite his assurances, Regulus did not think he should look so fragile unless he was ill.

“Grandfather, thank you for seeing me.” He sat as requested. “I would like to request a new vault be made.”

Even in his frailty, Arcturus Black could still send lesser men cowering with a single look. Regulus did his best not to look as small as he felt under his gaze. While they had mended their relationship to a working degree, a childhood of inaction and pain left its scars. 

“This wouldn’t happen to be related to the young woman flitting about your life, would it? How does Narcissa describe her? A backwoods Irish upstart.”

The words were harsh, but he knew his cousin meant them fondly. While vastly different, the two women bonded through hardship. It was through Hannah’s bidding that Narcissa was able to reach out to Andromeda and mend the relationship. It was through Narcissa that Hannah was able to build out her orphans and abused children proposal. 

Finding that she came from a prominent family name that once held power in the Wizengamot ignited passion in Hannah. After a crash course in British politics, she dived into the largely male dominated sphere with spite and vehemence. Her first act had been creating a proposal for children orphaned by the war, offering sanctuary and funds. She had no allies and no previous support and it should have been doomed from the start. Something she did not appreciate Regulus telling her.

Then Augusta Longbottom joined her.

In hindsight, he should have anticipated the old matriarch taking to Hannah, who had the audacity to demand rights and retribution. Madam Longbottom brought her under her wing and the two of them tore the Wizengamot apart. There were funds sent to every child who lost both parents to the war to help offset the loss.

Of course, Hannah wasn’t just satisfied with that.

Now they worked on creating a place for those of abusive homes, laws to persecute the parents willing to torture children, delivering justice to those so often overlooked. It shouldn’t work. And for now, it has met with limited success. Regulus had faith that she would cow them to her will.

He smiled at his grandfather, “It has very much to do with her. I wish to marry her.”

“I see.” He was not surprised. Regulus blamed Narcissa’s weekly gossip sessions. “She has a good name, but her manners are atrocious.”

And he loved her for it. “I’m well aware of her lineage and upbringing. Please do not misunderstand. I am not asking permission to marry, I simply wish for a secondary vault as tradition would dictate.”

Ten years ago, the thought of ordering something from his grandfather would have given him a heart attack. He held so much fear about disagreeing, about falling out of line, about not being the perfect son his parents so desperately wished. Now, with so much healing and settling into himself, Regulus could push away the lingering doubt. He did not need this man’s approval. He did not need to bow to his will.

“Of course,” he said, something akin to pride or respect shining through his wrinkled eyes. Regulus resisted the urge to fidget, “I will draw up the paperwork. What is the timeline?”

“I hope to ask before the school year.”

Humming, he nodded, “Not much time, but I believe we can have the Manor ready for a wedding. Your mother left it in disarray and I haven’t had the strength to battle with whatever infestation she left, but that house elf should get it back in shape. Preferred you if I remember correctly.”

Poor Kreacher, rambling about the house, falling further into madness. Regulus had tried to bring him to his side, but the habits and opinions his mother had been ingrained to the elf. Despite Hannah’s claims that she found his mutterings hilarious, he would not have someone disparage her at every turn. He told the elf to keep the house in the shape his mother would have wanted and visited often. A small mercy. He was not a young elf and had suffered greatly under his mother.

He shook his head of those thoughts and straightened again, “We wouldn’t get married in the Manor.”

That earned a raised brow and Regulus explained, “Hannah, as you have pointed out, is untraditional. In addition, I have no love of that house. The Moor Estate is small, but neither of us want something large. It would be serviceable.”

“I’ll speak with Narcissa and see what can be done.”

He could have rolled his eyes. Or protested the need for Narcissa to step in as wedding planner. It was not a battle he had to face. Hannah was quite capable of telling people off when she wanted. He watched as his grandfather made a note and nodded.

“While you are here, I would like to discuss one more thing,” he said, setting aside his quill, “I’d like to name you as heir.”

It took every ounce of his strength and training not to recoil in horror. “Sirius is heir.”

“Sirius is in Azkaban,” he said bluntly, “I would be remiss if I did not take that into consideration. You are teaching, getting married, in good social standing.”

And Sirius was blacklisted in society, even if Regulus could get him exonerated. And his most recent plan was very very risky. He sighed, “Grandfather, I appreciate the gesture and the confidence of this request, but I cannot accept.”

“Even if Sirius refuses should he become free?”

That was a definite possibility. It was a surprise Sirius had not chucked the family name prior to his arrest. Perhaps the war had kept him too busy to think about. Perhaps he still had some inkling of pride at his name. No matter, Regulus would not take it from him should he want it.

“If he disowns himself, I would gladly take on the mantle. It has to be his choice though.” 

And the moment Sirius suggested throwing away the name of Black, Regulus would cheerfully strangle the living daylights out of him. He had no designs to be heir. He had no wish to prove his mother right.

“You would make a good heir.”

He gripped the chair rests, determined not to show an inkling of the emotions warring through him at such a simple statement. It should have been a praise. It should have been an encouragement. He should preen at such words from his grandfather.

Instead, all that flashed through his mind was the endless conversations from his mother. The constant grooming. The incessant comparison between him and his older brother. Regulus was the perfect son, the better heir, the pride of the House of Black. Someday he would take over. All the comments and snide remarks that led him straight to Voldemort’s arms.

He stood abruptly, not caring for the protocol that demanded he wait for a dismissal. He had to get away from the haunting whispers. 

“Please let me know once that vault is prepared.”

He swept out, expectations and pasts clinging to him like cobwebs that littered his mother’s house. He did not stop until the steady beat of Hogwarts’ magic drowned out all other senses. Sinking into a meditative state once safely in his rooms, he let the magic of the ancient castle wash over him like a cleansing waterfall, engulfing every sound and sensation. 

Regulus was not the lost boy of his childhood. Nor the bitter teen of his youth. He had fought tooth and nail to become the man he was today. Not that it was not still difficult. Or that the past didn’t kick like a mule, as evidenced by his current state.

His healer would say it never went away, simply became manageable. 

Several deep breaths later, he opened his eyes, relaxed. The roar of magic died to a whisper. A steaming plate of tea and biscuits had been left on the table. He munched on them and reviewed the rest of the day. He did not get very far into his biscuits or his thoughts when the floo chimed.

Whoever chimed had the manners of a troll as they came through without waiting for his permission. To confirm his suspicions, it was Gideon Prewett that ambled through.

“Cissy said you were sulking here.”

He raised an eyebrow at the nickname as well as the sulking comment, deciding to refrain from asking about either, “Is it just you today?”

“Fabian’s doing his best not to curse out the pigs,” he said with an easy shrug, as if talking about the weather. There was little else they could say within these walls. Regulus sighed.

“You two don’t have to do this.”

“Just don’t tell our sister.” He grinned. That would be a disaster. Molly Weasely was many things, but subtle was not one of them. If she found out, not only would they all receive a tongue lashing, but all their plans would be moot. It was crucial that the plan go smoothly this close to its conclusion. Not only for their sake but for young Harry.

Because Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the savior of the Wizarding World, was being abused.

Nothing overtly physical, nothing that left outward marks for the neighbors to see, but Regulus could see the hunched shoulders and thin frame for what they were. The boy never raised his head, never smiled, never questioned. He was wary of strangers and wary of family and wary of the world. While Regulus had been unable to get inside the house to place monitoring charms, he knew they were withholding food, love, care. 

Sirius was going to kill him. Rightfully so.

When he first suspected the abuse, he had gone to Dumbledore, hoping to gain access to the boy. He had been denied, predictably so, but he had hoped to instill urgency in the old man to act. All he had done was stick a batty old woman and her kneazles with him. Fat lot of good that had done. 

Then he had tried official channels, hoping to throw around some weight as a war hero. He was ensuring the proper care for the boy. He claimed his brother had lost his right as godfather but the boy had Black blood. He wanted to care for his family. He had been thoroughly denied by exceedingly chipper receptionists and managers alike. The Wizarding Orphan Office was lucky the building was still intact.

Finally, he went the muggle way about things. Hoping to be beyond Dumbledore’s reach. He left anonymous tips of abuse, as detailed as he could be and even a few falsehoods to create urgency. Nothing. When he returned again under a different guise, the people seemed to have no file on the Potter lad. Foiled by Dumbledore once more.

All that was left was a subtle monitoring schedule with sly attempts of joy for the boy until they could finally free him. Regulus bought a house and they all stayed once a week or so, whenever they had time off, and stumbled upon Harry, offering sweets and stories and happiness. It wasn’t much, but Regulus hoped it was enough to carry him through the harshest nights, at least until Sirius could replace those nights with comfort and family.

“So, you coming?”

“What was that?”

Gideon chuckled, no doubt guessing his thoughts, “Gin and Perce’s birthday bash this afternoon.”

He shook his head, of course it was a Weasley function. They seemed to have those every week. “No, I’ll send them something later. I have a few things I need to tie up here.”

“You’re just avoiding Charlie and Bill pestering you about teaching Defense.”

That he would be willing to admit. Somehow, Minerva had wrangled him into teaching a dueling club for the first years and tutoring for struggling students in addition to the potions classes and tutoring he already had. Every year, Bill and Charlie tried cajoling him into opening the club to more students, or even better teaching the class himself. They were getting creative in their requests. 

“Tell them and I’ll let Molly know you need her advice on dating.” That earned a horrified look. Teach him for teasing him.

He let out a huff, “Right, fine. Meet you Monday?”

He nodded, waving him off. He settled at his desk to get things done for the school year in a few weeks when a letter popped on his desk. 

_At your earliest convenience, let’s discuss next year’s curriculum. -Minerva._

With a mental groan, Regulus set aside the mountain of paperwork to attend the deputy headmistress’ summons.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting consistency? Ha, what's that?

“Ah, Regulus, thank you for coming so quickly.” Minerva said, a stern look on her features, more so than usual. Righteous fury was coursing through her, similar to when a particularly nasty curse was set on her house two years ago. Regulus nearly cackled as the Head of Gryffindor was unleashed on the kid.

“What has Dumbledore done this time?” That was the subject of most of their conversations. Minerva had been losing faith in the old headmaster about the time the Potters had died. With gentle prompting, Regulus had managed to stoke her independence from the coot. 

“The Ministry, actually.”

He paused at the doorway at that remark, thinking over the recent appeals and protests both his family and Hannah have lodged. Nothing that should affect Hogwarts. Not yet anyways.

“I have been tasked with finding suitable teachers for the new classes: Magical Defense and Magical Foundations.” Her tone did not match what should have been a celebration. After the initial conversation, Minerva had been trying to get Dumbledore to agree to revamping the curriculum. She thought it a brilliant plan to revitalize the school. Dumbledore had been much more reluctant to agree.

“And that’s wrong?” he asked, trying to place her anger. Dumbledore had been using the Ministry as an excuse for years, claiming no one would agree to such a drastic change in schooling. While that was undoubtedly true, he had a hard time believing he had no power to change minds. 

“By the start of this term.”

He blinked at her, “That’s in a month.”

She gave him a look she usually reserved for a particularly slow student. A month. A month to find new teachers capable enough to pass Ministry inspection, who could prove that these new subjects were worth teaching. Not only that, they would have to build out the curriculum from scratch.

“Are they opening this to all years?”

She nodded her approval at the question, “At this time, only first through third years. Should it be successful, they’ll replace all seven years.”

So all was not hopeless. He mused over the list of people he knew could do it. They had to be young, flexible, and willing to take on the daunting task.   
“Magical Defense will be difficult as we’ve run through a good majority of capable people,” Minerva said as he thought it over, “Magical Foundations will require someone willing to be impartial and a large head for research.”

“What about Remus Lupin for Magical Foundations?” he asked as nonchalantly as possible. He had lost touch with last of his brother’s friends. Not by any of his own failings. The stalwart Gryffindor was quite capable of slipping to the shadows when he wanted. 

Lupin was the smartest of the group, easily of the year. He could take on the job. Regulus was only unsure of how impartial he could be.

Minerva nodded, “He’s talented and showed an affinity for tutoring students when he was here. We would have to take precautions while he taught, but I think he would be a top candidate.”

They went over several names for Defense and back ups for Foundations should Dumbledore reject their suggestions. The long day had begun to wear on him as they finished up. Minerva rolled up her parchment, satisfied, “Thank you Regulus. I know the Ministry is determined for us to fail, but I think we have a chance.”

“Of course.” He stood and stretched, as he did so the ring box stumbled from his pocket. He glared at it and cursed the pockets of his robe. He loved this robe, but the pockets were severely lacking. 

She picked it up, handing it back with an amused grin, “Hannah will be thrilled, I’m sure.”

“Don’t start.” He stuffed it back in his pocket.

“Bring her by before the term starts. She always has the best conversations.”

He raised an eyebrow, “And she annoys Dumbldore.”

A young woman of her abilities out of his grasp did more than annoy him. It was even better that Hannah knew she was taunting him, teasing as if he stood a chance of adding her to his collection. Regulus loved her even more for it.

“I would never admit to such a thing.” She huffed, “Good night, Regulus. Don’t dawdle.”

He would never stoop to grumbling, but now would have been a good moment to pick up the habit as he left Gryffindor territory. He was not dawdling. He was being strategic about the time and place. He was a Slytherin for Salazaar’s sake. Bloody Gryffindors and their bleeding hearts.

The place was Moor Estate. He wanted to ask in the place where it all started, where he became new, where he reimagined himself. The place where they met, the place where they each forged a new life. With the summer flowers in full bloom and the air sweet with fruit. It was perfect. 

The time was...flexible. 

Well, not so flexible. He had until the term started. And between the new classes being built and Hannah rewriting her proposal for the September Wizengamot, time was precious.

“I’m going to eviscerate Lord Selwyn,” Hannah said without preamble, her brown curls in disarray, rolls of parchment spilling from her arms. She dumped them all on the table with a huff, grabbing a quill as one would a sword in battle.

“What did he do this time?” he asked, fond of her anger towards the old pureblooded lords.

“He had the gall to suggest my place belonged in his bed. He thinks I could use a firm hand to tame.” She growled, stabbing the papers with ink, “Pompous prat.”

“Say the word and he will disappear.” He already had five plans to rid himself of the body. And he knew just how he would kill him. Something public. Something humiliating. Perhaps he would destroy Selwyn and rob him of his fortune first. 

Hannah patted his arm, quelling murderous thoughts, “I can handle him. I plan on being very public about it too.”

“As you should.” He took her hand and kissed it. “But my offer stands.”

She smiled, soft and warm, “And I will keep it in mind should I need it. Thank you.”

“Very well, I’ll abside. Anything else I can do?”

Leaning into him, she looked over her parchments, pulling a few close, “Madame Longbottom has been helping me with the rewrite. How do you feel about teaching primary?”

Regulus made a face. Hannah’s brilliant plan included teaching the young children pulled from abusive homes. Obviously they would go to Hogwarts at eleven, but removing them from homes removed them from education and culture. Most children in wizarding society learned from their parents until Hogwarts. Hannah wanted to change that entirely, but she would settle for those she could save.

“Sounds like an excellent job for someone else.”

Snorting, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, “I’ll wear you down.”

He unfortunately knew that was true. Still, he had hope it would be a few years before that happened. He had time to figure out an excuse. 

“I’m going to check on dinner.” Hannah waved him aside, already immersed in paperwork. He smiled. Perfect.

Tippy had everything ready. Regulus put together candles and set the table, ensuring every fork every napkin was in the right place as per proper etiquette. It would go over Hannah’s head, but she didn’t need to know why the candles were exactly six inches or that he was making a statement with three forks instead of two.

“This is nice. Stuffy.”

Startling, he whirled around. Hannah had her arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, an eyebrow raised. Was she laughing at him? He cleared his throat.

“I thought we could do stuffy for tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” Definitely laughing at him. He raised his chin, defaulting in proper mode. Dinner was set, now it just needed the guests. Pulling out her chair, he gave her a challenging look. She returned it with an awful curtsy. Wasn’t Narcissa supposed to be teaching her some things?

“Lord Black, what an honor to be sharing a table with you.” She took her seat primly, snapping her napkin in her lap, “It is a pleasure to be spending the evening with you.”

“You’re impossible.” He had hoped to ask after dessert, as was proper, but of course she wouldn’t let him get through that.

“Something on your mind, Reggie?”

Taking a forlorn look at the seat across from her, he touched the ring box in his pocket. “Hannah, I have this all planned out, so just let me give the speech I planned, alright?”

He pulled out the ring and something like panic crossed her features. No, it couldn’t be panic. Surprise, yes, that was it. “Regulus, wait.”

Shaking his head, he continued, “The day we met, there was a kinship between us, a connection. You mystified me, you always mystify me. At the same time, you draw me in like no one else.”

He opened the box, the ring glinting in the candle light. Hannah gasped, then reached out and closed it, “Stop, please.”

“But-”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He never prepared for her saying no. What a horrible idea. Instead of anger or confusion, Hannah gave him a warm smile, “Regulus, this isn’t right.”

“Right,” he pulled away, pocketing the ring back in his pocket, standing quickly, “I shouldn’t have presumed anything.”

“You’re a ridiculous person,” she said, tugging him back, “I’m not saying no. But, I’m not saying yes either.”

“That does not make any sense.” He should have waited. He shouldn’t have let himself hope for a better future, a better life. 

She pulled him into the chair beside hers, intertwining their fingers, “Be honest, Reggie, is this the right time or is your upbringing telling you it’s the right time?”

“What does that matter?”

Stroking his hands, she spoke softly, gently, “Do you really feel right asking me, getting married, while you’re still estranged from your brother?”

Instinct wanted him to jerk away, scream, yell, rage. Had it been any other person, he might have done so, but this was Hannah. Still, he tensed and she gripped tighter, desperate to hold onto him, to keep him from listening to instinct.

“I can’t put my life on hold for that. It may never happen.”

“They just appointed a new head of the DMLE. I know you were waiting for that. Come November, you’ll be able to start that grand plan of yours.” Her smile was not encouraging. He looked away.

They had been waiting on someone competent to take over in the Ministry. With a new Minister and a new DMLE head, there was a chance someone would listen to his appeal for Sirius. Not that he was going to wait for a formal appeal and trial. Crouch was still in the department, but Regulus hoped he was muzzled enough to stay out of his way.

“It could utterly fail and I could end up in a cell next to him.”

She nodded sagely, “And I would be devastated. That didn’t answer my question though.”

Sulking, he looked away. Sure, he wanted to reconcile with Sirius, but that was a faint hope. He had his grandfather and Narcissa on board. That was fine. That was enough. Wow that sounded false even in his head. 

Hannah waited for him to process, to form the right words. Further reason why he wanted to make her his officially. “Of course I would want to reconcile, but again, it may never happen.”

“Hope is painful, huh?” she asked, too knowingly, “How about this, we go through the plan with November. By January, if things have taken a turn for the worse, ask me again.”

Closing his eyes, he took a moment to take in her touch, her kindness, her words, then nodded, “Very well.”

She kissed his cheek, “I’m not saying no. Just not yet.”

“You just want the name Sayre to be on the proposal when it passes,” he teased, letting the moment pass, “Maybe I’ll take your name. You can be forever immortalized. The Black name can die out this time.”

“Ridiculous, I tell you. That’s got nothing to do with it.” She pulled his plate from the other side, nudging it toward him and taking a big bite of her own. 

He rolled his eyes, tucking into his food. Curious, he asked, “I could take your name though. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Stop. I’m taking the Black name,” she looked up, a malicious gleam in her eye, “Though all the paperwork will have Sayre. I will utterly destroy them and then vanish like the wind.”

“Why?”

She hummed, pausing to think over her words, “I kinda like thumbing my nose at traditions, if you haven’t picked that up. It’s fun. But...they’re important to you. And you’re important to me.”

She said it so casually, as if it meant nothing, as if she hadn’t declared something so precious to him. For someone to go against their nature, to put themselves at a disadvantage simply because they cared for another more than their goals. 

“Such a hufflepuff,” he said with a smile, “But it’s your name, your legacy.”

“Alright, take your famous school for example. The four founders were great and whatnot. The names died out. But their legacy lives, their magic lives in new names, new families. The name doesn’t matter, the choices we make do. The legacy we leave behind does.”

Such a refreshing perspective. Like a warm breeze, it swept away the lingering cobwebs of fear and doubt, “You are a stellar woman, Hannah Sayre. I am honored to know you.”

“Oh hush.” A blush crept up her cheeks and she dropped her gaze. They finished dinner and settled in the library. A warm fire started and Hannah draped her legs in his lap as she recounted her day.

It was not how he planned the day to end, but as he laughed at her stories, he couldn’t find in himself to regret it. For a moment there was peace and hope and love. For a moment, he was warm and happy. For a moment, he had Hannah and he needed nothing else.


	4. Chapter 4

The start of a new school year had always been a special sort of magic. First years full of fear and wonder, seventh years full of nostalgia and excitement. It never ceased to give Regulus hope when he saw the new students, to feel the magical power brimming with possibilities.

The first of the year meant he had the opportunity to change Slytherin for the better. The first of the year meant new beginnings, where everyone was open to the most change. Another generation entering the world, another year of students farther from the war, farther from tyranny.

Too bad Regulus was too distracted to take it all in. 

The weeks leading up to September 1 had been trying. Not only dealing with the fallout of not getting engaged, Regulus also was dealing with unforeseen consequences of suggesting Remus Lupin. Namely, a difficult and ridiculous potion every month.

Well, there was the point that he was a werewolf, but the potion thing was bugging him more.

A small voice murmured that perhaps it was bugging him because Sirius kept this secret. He knew his best friend was a wolf and didn’t tell his brother. Regulus silenced the thought with vengeance. He already had guessed of Lupin’s affliction. Secrets did not linger in the shadows long in the Slytherin house after all. There was no reason to be angry with his brother. None at all.

He was late meeting with the werewolf in question. 

Fixing his dark robes, Regulus spelled his hair into submission and strode towards Lupin’s quarters. He glared at the wide windows and large fireplace with unfettered jealousy. How easily could he convince Dumbledore to hire renovators for the dungeons? Just because he worked in a cave didn’t mean he had to live there.

“Your first vial of wolfsbane,” he said, holding out the steaming cup. Lupin grimaced but took it dutifully, “Bloody awful potion.”

With a shudder, he put the cup on the desk and waved him further in, “I heard it was difficult to brew. I’m grateful for your help.”

“The difficulty is irrelevant. The craftsmanship leaves much to be desired.” It was bad enough that the potion maker deigned to use expensive out of reach ingredients, but the effects of the potion did little to help the wolf. It was a potion that overpromised and underdelivered. While he wasn’t familiar with its creator, Regulus suspected Dark origins. Riddle would have wanted something to keep his pets on leash.

“It’s the only of its kind. I’m thankful it has been created.”

Of course he was grateful for a potion that was barely digestible and barely worked. He had been bitten as a child, forced to grow as a martyr, as the scapegoat for society’s harshness. Taught to hate himself, hate what was done to him, why would he believe anything could get better? Especially when no one did a thing.

Well, until now. Regulus was going to fix that. The current potion insulted every ounce of his intelligence.

“Even so,” he shrugged, allowing the subject to drop. A conversation for another day, “Are you ready for the howlers after your first lesson?”

The wolf gave a smirk, a face so familiar to his brother that it took him a moment to shake off the ache that coiled in his gut, “Looking forward to them actually. Though I suspect it will be next semester when things get heated.”

An understatement. The Ministry had hoped to fail the suggestion of new curriculum before it began by not giving enough time to find a new professor. Though Lupin was an easy find, building the curriculum had been a bigger hurdle. Magical Foundations was all about teaching both sides of magic, Light and Dark. Regulus shook his head at the fallacy of only teaching Light. Sure, those spells and charms could protect against Dark magic, but what if someone went at you with a cutting hex? That was Light magic and impossible to block with more Light magic.

He could only hope they’d be able to continue this class after this year.

“I want to thank you for your help building it out,” he said, tucking away his lessons and pulling on his professor robes for the feast soon, “And I would like to apologize for my initial behavior.”

Oh, Merlin. Save him from the idiotic Gryffindors and their need to express emotions. “It’s forgotten.”

If only it could be so easy, “No, it’s not. I judged you on your name. I hadn’t kept up with the papers when I was abroad. I should have known Dumbledore wouldn’t have hired someone he didn’t trust.” The smile he offered was rueful and Regulus did his best not to scoff. He highly doubted Dumbledore trusted him. It was a matter of keeping him close so he could keep an eye on him.

Still, their first meeting had been short of disastrous. Apparently the good headmaster failed to inform Lupin of his peers, failed to offer anything beyond a request to work for him. Regulus had a brief moment of panic that he would meet the wolf without the full moon.

“You are not your brother. I should have known that.”

Rage as cold as ice splintered through his veins. His movements grew graceful as a snake poised to strike, “Undoubtedly. Tell me Lupin, were you there when the Fidelius was cast?”

“No, I...I wasn’t.” They didn’t dare speak his name, not when grief and anger and denial stretched between them, “I asked the Headmaster, but he wasn’t there either. I didn’t want to believe it for a long time.”

Hope thawed some of the anger, but not enough to make him relax, “And what convinced you? The name he carries? The trial that never happened? The devotion he had for James Potter that led him to turning his back on his family at 16?”

He was saved from his verbal vomit by Dumbledore entering, completely oblivious and incapable, “My dear boy, I thought I’d walk you down, ah Regulus, how good it is to see fellow teachers coming together.”

“Headmaster.” He gave a curt nod, then swept out of the room. Stupid. A bout of emotional outburst could ruin the work he had done the past six years. The last thing he needed was Dumbledore sticking his crooked nose in it. Not when they were so close.

He just had to last a few more months. He could do that. 

Slipping in the seat by Minerva, he allowed the wonder of September 1st to sweep over him. He had a duty to these students just as much as Sirius. They demanded his attention.

Five galleons slipped over to him. He smirked at Minerva, “Told you he’d be Slytherin.”

She merely harrumphed and tucked into her meal. And then it was over and the students were all waddling to warm beds. He followed his students to the dungeons. The older students knew to linger in the common room, looking up at him expectantly. 

Seven first years. Low, but not surprising. Slytherin had always been the smallest of the four houses. Low birth rates among the elite in addition to the horrible prejudice and the war. Still, he had hope for the ones leaving. Slytherin was changing, slowly like a snake stretching in the sun. They would regain their former glory.

One redhead stared up at him in a mix of hope and fear. The first Weasley in Slytherin for generations. Percy would be a great value to the house. While he wasn’t smiling, there was enough fondness in his gaze that assured the young boy and he relaxed.

“Welcome to the Slytherin House. I am your head of house, Professor Black. I know you’re exhausted, but I have a few notices to share before you can get to bed. 

“First, you are among those who are cunning, resourceful, determined. These are not evil traits. Like any house, these traits can twisted into pitfalls. Recent years have shown this, but all houses were found on both sides of the war. Be proud of who you are in this house. It is nothing to be ashamed of.

“Second, bullying will not be tolerated. Should you witness anything either within the house or without, you may come to me and I will handle it discreetly. For those who bully in this house, know I will exercise my full right as your head of house to ensure swift action.

“Thirdly, the division between houses is only as strong as you make it. I often take tea with Professor McGonagall of Gryffindor and work closely with Professor Sprout of Hufflepuff. Professor Flitwick and I have a dueling club for first years. Be friendly with your classmates, regardless of garish colors and ridiculous mascots.”

He dismissed them with a wave and was encouraged by some of his older students pulling the first years into conversations. It was a far cry from his first year teaching.

Fresh from the war, that first year had been a battle of wills between himself and his older students. Many had parents that died on the wrong side. Many still held onto their blood purity status like a shield. They wanted nothing to do with a traitor.

To be fair, Regulus had been determined to fix something. Sirius had been out of his reach, his brother’s godson in an abusive household, the horcrux hunt stalled; he needed to save someone. So he put all his energy in dragging the petulant snakelings to reality. They were not what they thought. Their family had been brought up on lies and now it was their turn to change the world.

Needless to say, he was largely unsuccessful.

It wasn’t a total loss. There was now an unofficial school program that partnered Hufflepuffs with Slytherins. Both houses had their fair share of abused kids that bonded them. The loyalty of the badgers combined with the ferocity of his snakes, it was a terrifying duo to behold. Chaos reaped in the halls. He was very proud. 

One of his seventh years that year, Alya Baron, had gone on to apply to the Ministry, fighting for Muggleborn rights. He wasn’t sure that was due to him though. The Baron family was a bit of a wildcard in the Wizengamot. Perhaps she came from a more neutral line.

“Um, Professor Black?”

He shook off his musings to look down at young Percy. Had he ever been so small? “Yes, Percival?”

He fidgeted with his shabby coat and Regulus made a note to ensure Arthur got a well-deserved raise. He did not need one of his snakes skipping about in less than ideal clothing. The boy straightened as he raised an eyebrow, “Will you owl my parents?”

“I will do so since I am in the habit of sending a notice to all parents, but you must embrace your sorting.” He slouched in defeat and Regulus kneeled before him, “Percy, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Slytherin is a great house and it is lucky to have you.”

“Weasleys are Gryffindors,” he mumbled.

“A wonderful house as well, but we cannot all be brave and foolish. Someone has to keep them from blowing themselves up, yes?”

That caught his attention. Not surprising. The last time he had visited the house, the twins had inexplicably turned their hair blonde and were cackling at the chaos they ensued. Percy would latch onto any ideal that brought some sort of order in his life. He gave a small smile, “Slytherins are renowned leaders. Lately, they haven’t been very good ones, but you’ll change that, won’t you?“

He perked up and nodded vigorously as Regulus shooed him towards his bunkmates. His house taken care of, he retired to his rooms to write the parents of the kids now in his care. It was adapted from the speech he just gave. Once addressed he sighed and turned to the snowy white owl in the corner. As if sensing his gaze, she lifted her head from under her wing and peered at him.

The owl that had belonged to the Potters proved her stubbornness by lasting two years. A familiar without its bond was never a happy outcome, especially since he could not get her close enough to Harry. She warmed up to him at least, and then gave him a parting gift; a lonely egg. Regulus could not save the familiar for Harry, but he thought this new owl may be a consolation.

She had no name and no bond, waiting for Harry. He stood and stroked her feathers, “Well, little one, would you mind sending these out for me? Come this time next year, I promise to get you to Harry.”

She cooed, took his letters and was off. 

With a sigh, he turned wearily to his bedroom. As he was mentally preparing for bed, a knock came on his door. He glared at the offending noise. Maybe he could ignore it. Maybe he could snap at whoever dared intrude.

No, he thought as he straightened his robes and put on a neutral expression. Summer vacation was over. He had to be a teacher and head of house again, which meant not scaring off potential students at his door.

Opening the door, the only sign of annoyance was a twitch of his lips, “Lupin.”

“I know it’s late, but I hoped we could continue the conversation from earlier.” There was a desperation in his voice, in the way he gripped the door frame. Regulus really needed to break his brother out of prison already. He had enough needy people in his life. He did not need to add a wolf to the collection.

“We have classes tomorrow that I really should prepare for,” he said dryly.

“I have a feeling you can be succinct.” Lupin stepped forward, inviting himself in and solidifying Regulus’ theory that all Gryffindors lacked manners and propriety.

“Of course, please come in.” He drawled, glaring at his back and summoned tea. He would be a proper host, even if his guests were atrocious. “I know lions have difficulty with complex topics, so feel free to interrupt should I lose you.”

Well, Regulus had wanted to find Lupin before this to explain the situation. And there was always obliviate should he run his big mouth to Dumbledore. Decision made, he poured tea and presented his case to Sirius Black’s last remaining friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percy's a Slytherin. Nothing you say can change my mind


	5. Chapter 5

For the past six years, Regulus spent every November 3 in the Ministry. For the times it fell on a school day, he allowed his NEWT students to teach for the day, giving them experience and opportunity. He appointed another teacher to take over his duties, often one of the other Heads of Houses. He even went the extra mile to formally request from the headmaster the day off, outlining what he would be doing. 

It was fairly simple. He would get up early and travel in town to have a morning meal with Hannah or Narcissa and Draco, enjoying their company on a day that brought him little joy. From there, he would meander down to the Ministry, request an appeal form and then spend the next hour filling out the form in front of the clerk. Once completed and handed in, he made small talk with the clerk and guard as they pretended to pass the appeal to higher authorities. All parties involved knew it was a pointless venture. Still, he did it every November like clock work.

The afternoons varied. Sometimes the Prewett twins would cajole him into an adventure, hoping to draw out his melancholy mood. Often he ended at the Weasley household, drinking in the loud and almost painful atmosphere of family and love.

November 3, 1987 looked no different from the past six years. His notes for his NEWT students were on the desk and breakfast with Narcissa and Draco was prim and proper. Draco begged him for flying lessons while Narcissa gave a tiny shake of her head. Well, he would have to arrange for some secret flying. Draco needed to be in top shape for the Slytherin team.

The meal ended abruptly with a buzzing on his wrist. He glanced at a leather band he had wrapped around his right wrist, an orange light blinking at him. Standing, he nodded apologetically at Narcissa, “I have to go.”

A barely there touch on his hands and eyes that once were sharp as blades looked at him softly, “Good luck.” 

He gave a curt nod and ignored Draco’s protests. In a snap, he was outside the Ministry. Taking a deep breath, he spelled the band on his wrist invisible and pushed his way inside. He stepped off the lift on Level 2 and greeted the young woman at the front desk.

“Good morning Mr. Black,” she said with a sad smile. His fingers twitched for his wand to wipe the pitying look she gave. Instead, he responded with a tight smile.

“Good morning Demalza. I need form 35 c.”

“Of course,” she pushed a sheaf of parchment towards him, “You know, you could take a few copies instead of filling it out here.”

He waved off her concern, pulling out a quill, “Looking to rid me from your presence so soon?”

She tittered and fluttered; it was utterly pathetic. Regulus began to fill out the form, careful of each stroke of his quill, desperately trying to ignore the buzzing and what it meant. He spent six years perfecting this alibi. He was not about to blow it.

Activity began to pick up and Regulus bent closer to the paper, focusing on the snippets of conversations around him while he filled the form. Word and panic was beginning to spread; the first ever break out of Azkaban had occurred.

Signing the appeal with a flourish, he sauntered back up to the counter with a graceful nod, “Shall I wait while it’s filed?”

The entire document was sealed as per protocol, so no one could read what he wrote except for the Minister and head of DMLE. He was certain Crouch never opened his appeals, most likely enjoying it burn in the fireplace, which was good because those early appeals had been scathing and irritable. He lost track of the names he listed for the incompetent heads of Ministry. This one was much more formal and appropriate. Angry, but without his usual bite.

“I’ll see if I can pass it off to the new head right now. Have you met Director Bones yet?” she asked as she took the form and a few other documents on her desk.

“Not yet.” Soon though, before he left this building.

She didn’t make it two steps when an alarm sounded through the room. Eyes wide, she risked a glance at her coworker who was just as bewildered. Regulus forced his muscles to relax, refused to reach for his backup wand. 

The Minister, his bowler hat askew, bumbled through with a sheaf of paper in his hand, “Amelia! What is the meaning of this?”

He disappeared towards her office and Regulus raised a brow at Demalza, “Problems with the plumbing today?”

His humor went unnoticed, “Please wait here, Mr. Black. I’m sure, well, something will be explained.”

“My pleasure.” Not that he could leave if he wanted to. Aurors were being obtuse as they positioned themselves at the doors, watching him like a hawk. Undoubtedly, he would find the inside of a cell should he attempt to leave.

He did not have to wait long. Amelia Bones strode out of her office in a picture of authority, two Aurors flanking her with the pathetic Minister at her coattails. He kept his hands out and visible, his stance relaxed but surprised, his attitude amenable, as they approached. 

“Director Bones, congratulations on your appointment.”

“What are you waiting for?” Fudge cried from behind the wall of people, “Aurors, arrest him!”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, “Have I committed some act of atrocity to warrant such action?” 

He blinked and sputtered. Bones held turned and said, “I’d appreciate you let the DMLE handle this matter. Thank you Minister Fudge.”

“He’s a Death Eater! The only way Black could’ve escaped is through his help!”

“Thank you Minister.” Her tone took a hard, cold edge. Rightly so. Fudge had just given Regulus exactly what he wanted. She nodded to the Auror on the left who took Fudge’s arm and guided him out, “Mister Black, may I see you in my office?”

“Of course,” he turned to Demalza with a simpering grin, “Might I have that appeal back? I’ll hand it to her myself.”

She blinked and handed the parchment over numbly. Trying hard not to notice the wands at his back, Regulus followed Director Bones to her office. “I’d like to point out that I had my time at court. I was a Death Eater, as the Minister so aptly put it, but the emphasis should be on ‘was’.”

“Dawlish, wait for us outside.” The Auror began to protest until she fixed him with a glare, “I am quite capable of handling an unarmed man who is innocent until proven guilty.”

The door shut behind him with a heavy thunk and Bones motioned for the seat as she took her own, “How can I help you, Director Bones?” 

“Mister Black, as the Minister has already blown the whistle, I won’t mince words. We have received word that SIrius Black has escaped Azkaban. Finding you here is somewhat odd timing.”

Blunt. He liked it. “Yes, Sirius always had impeccable timing. I could tell you my brother and I have not spoken since before I ‘died’. And I could explain how we were never on friendly terms. I could argue that I have been here for the past few hours, as I am on every November 3.”

That earned a skeptical look, “But?”

“I believe this will show my hand.” He slid the appeal to her, keeping his movements slow and calculated. This was a delicate matter. He would not get arrested if he could help it. 

She eyed him suspiciously but opened the appeal, her eyes scanning through it quickly. Emotions too much for him to catch flitted through her. Silently, she folded it back up and placed her hands over it, taking a deep breath.

“For the past six years, I have come to appeal his arrest. The past six years I have little to show for my effort as I fought the inefficiencies of this office. I was well spoken and vicious in the removal of Crouch in this position.” He straightened his robes, looking ever the bored pureblooded lord, “It would be a hassle and a pain to find another useful Ministry employee, but I will do so with glee if needed.”

“I don’t take well to threats, Mister Black. I am capable of doing my job.” With a long look, she sighed, “If you’re amenable, I’d appreciate your insight in your brother’s mindset.”

“He has been in Azkaban as a potentially innocent man,” he drawled, “I’m afraid I have little to offer into his mindset.”

Sensing he was not going to offer more than needed, not without proof of how she would handle this, she sighed, “My office will be in touch. Would you be able to return tomorrow?”

“I am expected back at Hogwarts tonight. I can meet Friday evening at the earliest.” He stood and she followed suit, her chin high even as he thrust the weight of an innocent man in Azkaban at her. She opened the door for him.

“I look forward to discussing this at length.”

He nodded his head to her and stepped back into the lobby. He ignored the menacing glares from the Aurors and was almost to the door when the Minister gave a cry of anguish. “Amelia, what are you doing letting Black just walk free? Aurors, arrest him!”

The nearest Auror, Shackebolt, instinctively grabbed his arm. Regulus settled with a cool look that had him paling, but not releasing. It took all his willpower not to hex the man. Instead, he turned to the Minister, his voice sharp and cutting.

“Unlike my brother, I had my day in court and it was deemed that my usefulness outmatched the weight of my sins. Unless you’d like to lose the position you just received, I’d suggest you back off.”

“Aurors.” Director Bones unspoken command cut through the frosty temperature and Regulus was released immediately, “I apologize Mister Black. I assure you, this is not how the investigation will be run.”

He nodded to her, gave one more scathing glare at the Minister then fled. Fighting the intense desire to find his brother, Regulus stuck to his routine and ambled to the Leaky Cauldron. The Prewett twins were not there to commiserate so he raised a toast alone and returned to Hogwarts early, hiding in his rooms.

Despite the relative calm and safety of the school, he still paced and prowled in his rooms. Had Sirius found a place to recover? Had he made it to the mainland? Hannah should be watching from a distance, keeping an eye on him, making sure he didn’t die. She would have alerted Regulus if anything went wrong. There was nothing to worry about.

Of course, this was Sirius. He was unpredictable, rash, brave, idiotic. 

The day waned to twilight. Regulus’ communication mirror buzzed. He pulled it out, frowning as Fabian’s face filled the frame. “Black here.”

“Hope you’re right about your brother, Regulus,” he said, out of breath.

With a sigh, he asked the one question he didn’t want to know, “What did he do?”

“Took the snitch. Guess he wasn’t ready to wait for the endgame.” There was a pause as the words sunk in. For the first time in hours, Regulus sunk into a chair, “Tell me the boy is safe.”

Sirius kidnapped Harry. He couldn’t even wait a day. Merlin what a mess. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the beginning of a headache forming. Of course he kidnapped Harry. He just escaped prison for him, why wait?

“He’s safe. I’ll find him and send you the location. Black out.” He tossed the mirror onto the table with a huff. Before fear could seize him, he pulled out a leather band tied with Hannah’s signature. He made for the boundaries of Hogwarts and disappeared with a pop.


	6. Chapter 6

It was no surprise to Regulus to find himself on Black property in the Lake District. Uncle Alphard’s, if he remembered correctly. The only uncle Sirius had attached to as a youth. He was mildly surprised Sirius had been able to apparate with a child in tow. He had always been a stubborn determined sort. He couldn’t very well stay in London with all of Britain looking for him.

Regulus took a moment to examine the small house. It was in good condition at least and several lights were on inside. A crow squawked at him and he waved her aside, ignoring the reproving glare Hannah was undoubtedly giving him.

He gave enough time for Sirius to be alerted by the wards before approaching the door. He did not knock. This wasn’t a social call.

Sirius was waiting for him, haggard and thin and dangerous. He had no wand to point at him, but Regulus didn’t doubt his life would be forfeit if he made the wrong move. His brother never needed magic to prove his lethality. He kept his wand in his pocket, but swiped a hand over the leather band on his wrist to hide it. The action was easily dismissed.

Surprise was on his side though. Sirius stared at him long and hard, disbelief and anger and shock warring through him. 

“Who are you?” he demanded. Regulus gave him an unimpressed look back.

“Really Sirius, I know it’s been awhile, but I would think you would recognize your own brother.” He wanted to scream and fling himself at his brother. He wanted to beg his forgiveness and confess his sins. Instead he stood as if the past ten years hadn’t occurred, as if they stood in that hall in Hogwarts, pain and rage open for any to see.

Sirius swayed slightly, his eyes rapidly switching targets. Regulus gave a sigh worthy of a pureblood lord, “At least tell me Harry’s alright. Is he in one of the bedrooms sleeping?”

That earned a reaction. He moved, defensive, to stand between his brother and an open door. Merlin, he was so obvious. Regulus held up his hands, “I’m not here to harm him. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

“You died,” he croaked, both brothers ignoring the rawness of that statement, the emotion behind it. “You died for him.”

“It was a near thing and it wasn't for him,” he said quietly. Oh how he wished things were different, that Sirius had behaved like he was supposed to. He wanted to lay bare his sins, to throw himself at his feet. Unfortunately, the boy had to be put first, “Is Harry safe?”

The wards pinged at that moment and Gideon barreled in, all grins and guileless, “Sirius! You sly dog!”

He broke in a grin, still slightly manic, and hugged the redhead. Regulus pretended that it didn’t hurt to see it, to watch him greet another more warmly than his own blood. So much was left unsaid between them. He took a step back.

“I’ll let you fill him in Gideon. I’ll be at Hogwarts.” He didn’t wait for a response, whether negative or positive. He spun out of there, aparating to the boundary line and making the long trek to his quarters. 

He sunk into his armchair by the fire, pouring himself some firewhiskey, to unwind before bed. Things were moving. There were a few bumps, but the plan was sound, everything would work out. With a decisive nod, he downed the drink and fell into glorious slumber.

To his credit, Remus Lupin gave no indication that something was different the next day at the breakfast table. Regulus took his seat beside him, watching the wolf from the corners of his eyes. Lupin was pale, but that was expected with the upcoming moon. They chatted about classes and exams. Due to the rotating schedule set at the beginning of the year, Regulus would be taking over the Foundations course while Lupin was indisposed this month. 

A flurry of owls descended on the room and Regulus paid for his newspaper, ignoring the whispers and stares as people took in the main headline.

PRISONER BLACK, MADMAN AND YOU-KNOW-WHO’S RIGHT HAND MAN, ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN

He hummed as he read through the article, eyes narrowing as the reporter claimed Regulus helped him escape, threatening the Minister of Magic while making wild accusations. Beside him, Lupin excused himself and left. Regulus did his best to act normal, reading through a few more articles, hoping to get more information. The only thing of use was the ongoing investigation of criminal activity done by men in masks. A desperate attempt to resurrect Death Eaters.

It wasn’t unheard of. In the aftermath of the war, those who escaped prison continued to push Riddle’s agenda. Most recently, a group of ten or so individuals had taken to more violent extremes. None had been apprehended yet.

With a casual air, Regulus folded up his paper and stood from the table. He gave a nod to Minerva, ignoring her pitying looks, and swept from the room. The day progressed slowly, students struggled as whispers filled the spaces between them. Furtive glances were thrown his way. 

At the end of the long day, he just wanted to crash into a barrel of the finest ale money could buy. He heaved a sigh as Lupin lingered in his office.

“This isn’t a surprise to you,” he accused, tapping the paper on the desk.

Regulus raised an eyebrow, “I was at the Ministry when the news broke.”

“How fortunate,” Lupin said dryly. He didn’t know all the details, but he was smart enough to figure out something was going on.

“Indeed. Can you imagine the chaos of Aurors storming the castle?” He pulled out some parchment and began scribbling a note, “It has been difficult enough as it is to contain the older students.”

“The article was not kind to you. Claimed you lost it.” Sharp eyes studied him, burdened by scars and pain and loss. “That you are not as Light as people believe.”

What a gross overstatement of the facts. Still, he would need to be careful from here on out. With such a public declaration, Regulus would be the easiest scapegoat for the community. “I’ll deal with the fallout.”

Of course, he wasn’t Light and never would be, but he was drifting Grey now, neutral and safe. It didn’t matter. The Black name was never one known for goodness or mercy. He could already hear Narcissa and Hannah harping him for being so brash, for undoing years of hard work. They had planned for this contingency, they would get through this. Probably for the best that Hannah told him to wait on proposing.

Lupin studied him, seeing more than he probably wanted, then nodded, “I already received a summons from the head of the DMLE for my statement. If I had known returning to England would have been so eventful, I would have come back years ago.”

“Yes, if only you hadn’t run off at the first sign of trouble.” That was harsh, but Regulus was done with the day. He wanted to curl up with Hannah and speak of brighter futures. He wanted to drown in firewhiskey. Both luxuries were denied him.

Before Lupin could speak, or even worse, Regulus could find a way to apologize, there was a knock on the door. Apparently the potion teacher would have no peace tonight.

Curbing his anger with the thought of a possible student on the other side of the door, he opened it and frowned. Percy Weasley was coming apart at the seams.

“Pr-Professor, I...I need your help!”

He knelt down. When had first years gotten so small? Putting a hand on his shoulder to calm the boy, he asked in the gentlest tone he could muster, “Pull it together now. What’s wrong?”

One thing his snakes quickly learned, Regulus did not tolerate crying. It wasn’t something he could afford as a child, especially once Sirius had left for Hogwarts. Crying was a weakness, crying was a flaw. While he no longer held these beliefs so tightly, he still had little sympathy for children sobbing over broken quills. He could not fix a problem if they couldn’t get past the tears.

Percy took several wretched breaths, “I-It’s Scabbers. My rat. He was acting funny, so I was gonna t-take him to Professor Kettleburn. But he’s gone!”

Regulus sighed inwardly. How often had he been sent to fetch his students’ lost pets? Too often. Still, this was an easy fix, something he could fix. And he knew just how much that rat meant to Percy, to a boy who had to share with his large family, to a boy who actually owned one thing.

Giving his shoulder a squeeze, he nodded, “That’s a simple spell. Let’s head to the dormitories and find him.”

“I can help.” 

Regulus turned to look at the wolf behind him, raising an eyebrow. In the presence of a distraught student, he couldn’t very well refuse, to tell him exactly where he could stuff his help, to ask where his help has been the past eight years. Lupin couldn’t change the past, but his offer was more than the lost rat. It was a gesture. He was here now. He could help now. With a huff, he stood, keeping a hand on Percy’s shoulder, “Come on.”

They walked through the halls, stopping at what seemed like a plain wall. It was entirely likely the rat was still in the boys dorm, and as a teacher, Lupin was entirely allowed inside Slytherin, but old rivalries ran strong. He cast the spell from outside. Lupin gave an amused snort, but didn’t comment further.

To his surprise, the spell shot off towards the castle rather than the dorms. The three of them followed the faint trail of light until it stopped at an unused classroom. Percy dove in, giving a jubilant cry as he scrambled under the desks.

“Scabbers!”

One boy and rat returned. Maybe Regulus could finally get some rest. 

Lupin stiffened beside him. He gave him an odd look, but the new professor was fixed on the rat in the young redhead’s arms. Then, just as suddenly as it had come on, he relaxed, “Your pet doesn’t look well at all. Would you like me to take him to Professor Kettleburn, Mr. Weasley? Curfew will be in effect soon.”

It was such an innocent offer, paired with a not-so-innocent reaction. Regulus stayed silent, curious, a headache beginning to form.

“Could you Professor Lupin?”

“I’d be happy to.” 

Unfortunately, the rat did not want to part with the boy, despite his disappearance act. It squealed and clawed and squirmed. Percy tried to hush the poor thing, but Lupin merely conjured a cage and encouraged him to put the wretched animal in. He must have put a silencing charm on it as the cage closed and cut off the horrible squealing.

“I’ll look after him for you. Scabbers you said?”

“Yes sir.” Percy stared at his pet, shoulders slumping, “He’s a bit useless and lazy. He never acts like this.”

“Have you had him a long time?” Lupin asked, far too curious for a professor simply doing a good favor for a student, a Gryffindor helping a Slytherin no less. Regulus’ eyes narrowed.

“Couple years, yeah. Found him in the garden. Bill and Charlie never got to take a pet to Hogwarts. I’m the first.” His chest puffed out. For one who took responsibility so seriously, being given the care of a pet was a huge pride thing. 

He sighed, “I’ll find you in the morning Mr. Weasley and let you know what Professor Kettleburn says. Off to bed now.”

The boy left with obvious reluctance. Once he was sure he was out of earshot, Regulus turned to Lupin, finding the man staring intensely at the vermin in the cage, “Care to share with the class.”

“Do you know the biggest piece they’ve found of Peter? The night Sirius claimed to have killed him?” he asked, his head cocked, lost in memory.

Ghosts of smoke and screams brushed against his mind. That had been a bad day, “A finger. Why?”

“I think I just found the rest of him.”


	7. Chapter 7

“You’ve...what?” Regulus managed to strangle out once his brain started working. He looked at the frantic rat in the cage, then at Lupin, then the rat. Had he lost his mind? Had the wolf taken over?

Lupin sighed, as if mildly inconvenienced, “It’s a long tale. One best told with the head of the DMLE present.”

Perhaps Regulus was the one hallucinating. It had been a long day after all. Still, he nodded and gestured to the door, “My office is closer.”

He was grateful it was late. It meant no one saw the two professors with a demonic rat in a cage. He closed the door to his office and asked for Director Bones to stop by. Given his name and the current state of emergency with his brother, she barely blinked an eye at his request.

In less than two minutes, Amelia Bones stepped through his fireplace, two aurors in tow. “Protocol,” she said in lieu of explanation, “What is this about Mr. Black?”

He waved his hand to Lupin, letting him take the stage. Lupin placed the cage on the desk and frowned, “Madam Bones, thank you for coming at such a late hour. My name is Remus Lupin, your office has been in touch.”

“Mr. Lupin, yes,” she studied the two men, glanced at the rat, then focused on him, “I thought we had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow?”

“Yes, but there has been a...development.” Regulus resisted the urge to rub his face. No wonder Sirius fell in with this lot, they were just as dramatic as he was. “I believe this rat is an animagus by the name of Peter Pettigrew.”

Well, wasn’t that interesting. Regulus’ gaze snapped to the wolf, hungry, desperate. No man could have survived the blast that day, but a rat…

“That is quite a claim.” Director Bones snapped at one of the aurors and they began to hastily scrawl notes. “Mr. Pettigrew died in ‘81, at the hands of Sirius Black.”

“I thought the same until recently. Even as I began to question Sirius’ innocence about the Potters, I never thought to question him about Peter.” Neither did Regulus. Sirius was unmatched in his loyalty and rage. Pettigrew was a traitor who cost Sirius his brother, he was a dead man the moment James Potter fell, “To explain, I have to go back to my years at Hogwarts, if you’re willing?”

“Proceed, Mr. Lupin.”

“When I came to Hogwarts, I fell into a certain group of friends that thrived on curiosity and adventure; James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigew. It was not the wisest choice, considering the condition I have, but well, one could only refuse James Potter so much before one gave in. We became close. Close enough that the excuse of an ailing mother only lasted so long.

“I made it clear to them, that under no uncertain terms, were they allowed to join me on full moons. I was a danger to all humans. I couldn’t live with myself if I had cursed them with the thing I despised. I should have known better than to challenge them.”

Regulus stood, needing something to do with his hands as his mind reeled, jumping ahead, making conclusions. He set a pot of tea on the fire, procuring five cups as Lupin continued.

“By fifth year, they came up with a loophole. They would join me on full moons. How they managed it themselves, I’ll never know. But James and Sirius were always at their best when someone was in need.” Lupin threw an apologetic look towards him. Thankfully the tea began to whistle. “They had secretly become unregistered animagi.”

Oh, something was wrong with the tea. Regulus hacked, trying to find air in the burning gulp he had taken. He glared at the wolf, who shrugged sheepishly. Bleeding Gryffindors. Sodding brothers.

“Peter Pettigrew’s form was a rat,” he said, not even pausing to explain why he didn’t reveal Sirius’ form or James’. Surprisingly, Director Bones didn’t push, “I had seen his form so many times. I knew his form. I just...I never suspected the betrayal, much less the desperate attempt to survive in my school friend.”

Silence fell as they all watched the rat scratch the bars of its cage. Director Bones made the first move, standing and holding her hand out for Lupin to shake, “Thank you for your testimony. We’ll test the rat. It will certainly make my job a lot easier if it’s Pettigrew.”

He nodded, but the director was already turning to Regulus, who wanted to disappear. “It would be even better if your brother could testify as well. It seems we’re missing a trial for him.”

“A notice in the Prophet might get his attention,” he said with a shrug. As if he would be dumb enough to admit he was in contact, “A formal apology wouldn’t go amiss either.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. One of her aurors grabbed the cage and disappeared in the fire. She dismissed the other, waiting for the fire to dwindle back to normal before taking a deep breath.

“Even with Pettigrew’s testimony, this will not be short or easy.” She pinned Regulus with a hard glare, “I would appreciate if your brother didn’t do anything stupid before we cleared him.”

“Ma’am, the only one who had hope of curbing his stupidity was James Potter.” He already kidnapped a child, not that he was going to say that. He was actually surprised Dumbledore hadn’t caught on yet. Perhaps the old coot was not watching as closely as he feared. Or perhaps he didn’t want to offer control to the DMLE. 

Lupin grinned and shrugged when she turned her glare at him, “He’s right. And even that usually ended with James joining whatever mad scheme he planned.”

With a long suffering sigh that spoke of late nights and longer days, Director Bones stepped into the floo with a halfhearted dismissal. Lupin looked at him curiously.

“Get out of my office, Lupin. I’ve had enough Gryffindor antics for one day.” 

With a snort and a wave, Regulus was finally, finally alone. He took one glance at the papers waiting for him and let out a curse. He could be back to his teaching self tomorrow. Maybe he’d give everyone a free pass for once. He barely managed to pull off his outer robe before crashing into his bed. A mirror hidden in the alcoves of his desk buzzed, but he was too far gone to notice.

The fire was low and the moon high when there was a creak in his room. Instincts born out of war had a wand in his hand and a curse on his lips. Red stunning light flashed through the room, illuminating red hair that barely dodged the spell. He groaned. 

“You’re gonna match your brother if you're not careful,” he grumbled, stuffing the wand back to its holster. 

Gideon grinned, stepping into the room fully and sinking into an armchair, “You’re not that good of aim.”

“Was there a reason for this visit? Besides testing my skills?” He sat up, running a hand through his hair, “or maybe your luck.”

“Can’t a guy see a friend at an unholy hour for a chat without having his motives questioned?” He asked, mock affronted. He leaned back in the chair, unaffected by Regulus’ glare, “you seemed to run out pretty quick the other night.”

“Someone would have noticed my absence.” Since this seemed to be a long talk, he summoned two glasses and poured some firewhiskey, “I wouldn’t have put it past Director Bones to tag me.”

“Good excuse. Not why.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Your jokes are better than your attempts at counseling,” he sneered, his bad mood catching up with him. The normally jovial redhead was stern and unamused. “What do you want?”

“The truth.” Of course. So simple. As if the truth would solve anything. The truth was there to flay him open and leave him bleeding, “Regulus, I know how much it meant to you. You’ve spent the past eight years working towards this goal and it’s finally happening and you run out with your tail tucked between your legs.”

He was a coward. That was nothing new. Deciding the only way to spit the words out was to lubricate them heavily with drink, he gulped the whiskey, ignoring his grandfather’s echoing cries at propriety in his head, “I wasn’t needed.”

Gideon didn’t push or urge, just sat there, watching, sipping at his glass as a sophisticated human. Regulus poured himself another glass. “It was clear when you arrived that you were the better choice in explaining to Sirius the situation. Since my presence was superfluous, I left.”

“Reg…”

Amber liquid swirled in the crystal, catching the tiniest rays of light. “We are not like your family Gideon. Midnight confessions and brawling in the front yard doesn’t fix things.”

“Have you tried it? Totally recommend the brawling. Hexes have nothing on a good punch.” He grinned, but the joke fell flat. “Besides, I coulda told you your family was different from the first time you came over for a pint. So stiff the boards were jealous.”

“Crude, but true. So I’m not sure what else you would expect. Sirius and I are not about to dissolve into a weepy mess at our reunion.” No matter how much part of him ached for it. “There’s too much baggage with the name Black. He’s free and he’s safe and that is all I strived for.”

“You did not fight for him for eight years to let it go,” he said softly. Regulus tightened his grip on the glass, completely focused on the amber liquid and not on feelings. Definitely not feelings. 

Okay, maybe a bit focused on feelings. He set the glass down, ignoring the loud sound the glass made hitting the wood, “What do you want Gideon? Yes, I worked for years to get my brother out of that hellhole. And at times, it seemed like I was the only one.

“But he doesn’t need me. He’s never needed me. And yes, all I wanted to do for those years was fall at his feet and beg his forgiveness. But that’s not possible. We’re not like your family Gideon. The Black family does not mend. It only breaks.”

He stood and paced to the fire, watching as it flared with his magic. Closing his eyes, he took a breath, reigning them in. Gideon remained silent, probably wise. 

“This isn’t some child’s tale,” he said softly, “There’s too much between us.”

There was a soft growl behind him and Regulus whipped around. Gideon was gone and a large black dog sat on the rug. It hung its head and looked at him mournfully. He was going to kill Gideon. 

“Of course you’re a grim, you bloody drama queen.” He crossed his arms, “I am not conversing with a filthy beast.”

The dog huffed, then was completely revolting by bounding over and jumping on him, giving his face a lick.

“Get off! I’m gonna have you neutered you mongrel!”

That resulted in more licking. When he finally got Sirius off, Regulus was rumpled and red. “Good to know you’re still absolutely mental. Gideon get in here!”

The redhead popped his head in with a toothy grin, “Oh, didn’t I mention I brought my dog over?”

“Then you can take him back.” He gave the dog a shove for good measure, that only resulted in him flopping over on him.

“Seems like he likes you.”

Regulus glared at the unrepentant man, “I’m setting Molly on you.”

He gasped, holding a hand to his heart, “That’s cruel that is. Hitting a man below the belt. I always knew you Blacks lacked all sense of honor, but to stoop as low as sending my baby sister after me. The disgrace!”

“If I promise to visit this weekend, can I go back to sleep now?” He asked with a huff. The dog’s tail thumped on the floor happily.

“Suppose that’ll work. Let’s go Snuffles.” One meddlesome redhead and equally meddlesome dog gone, Regulus sank into his bed once more, knowing morning would dawn much quicker than he would like.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The first chapter of the second series. Thoughts? Kudos? Personal HP headcanons? Share them!


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